


Incandescence

by CeNedraRiva



Category: Code: Breaker
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-05
Updated: 2012-10-05
Packaged: 2017-11-15 16:53:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeNedraRiva/pseuds/CeNedraRiva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So bright, I begin to burn. There will be only ashes left, and I don't think myself a phoenix...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Incandescence

****

I’m gazing at you as you lie asleep in my arms. You’re so _peaceful_ , smiling softly as you relax in my presence. I admit, I still don’t understand.

How are you so innocent?

You know the world, know that  there are murderers, monsters out there. You followed gang members deep into witness free areas to try and convince them of their wrong doing. Even when they turned on you, caught you out, inhibited you, degraded you, still you tried to save them from their actions. What is it that you see in people that convinced you of their inherently good nature? It sure as hell wasn’t how they acted.

I watch as your eyes move in dreams, frowning minutely before burrowing deeper into my chest, as if to hide.

Humans are selfish. I have known that for as long as I can remember. They lie, cheat, even kill just to get that small advantage that leads to what they want, but you…I know you realize the truth of human nature, I can see it in the disappointment with which you gaze at the crowd that ignore the homeless, and the sorrow when another murder is reported. But still you hope, a fool’s hope, that humanity will understand each other and ceasefire…

Sakura, how can you hope that, how can you see that flame when all I can see is darkness?

You understand, as I do that there truly is no such thing as evil or immoral, simply differing opinions. Everyone is justifying their actions, no one would truly believe themselves wrong. Is the starving bread thief wrong when he knows no one else will feed him? Is it wrong to attack the man who threatened your family? Tabata justified destroying the lives of countless families, and the brutal murders of people for organs simply to find transplant matches for his daughter’s future survival. There is no evil.

That doesn’t make us good.

I find myself enthralled by your capacity for forgiveness and understanding, Sakura. That you would sleep so soundly in the arms of a murderer, for that’s what I am.

I select each of my targets that I deem trash, evil, and paraphrase Hammurabi’s Code, striking by night and just waiting in the shadows for the day when I will be overcome by someone else’s convictions of right and wrong. I murder the murderers, burning their corpses to ash on the wind and feel numb. I am not a good person.

But you…

Sakura, you are so selfless it _hurts_. So pure, incandescent in the dark and I find myself blinded. I am consumed by your blaze, and it’s agony but I cannot leave, can’t return to the numbing cold darkness I once was lost in. How can I, when the idea alone is enough to quicken my heart, and freeze my breath. I would never willingly choose to leave this warmth, this light, even as it destroys my very being. You say I am good, you can see some glimmer of silver worth redeeming in me, and I find myself agreeing, for how can I not when it is you who sees it? And I twist and turn to try and meet your expectations, to make them _true_. I am addicted, intoxicated, by the flame, and perhaps it is because of the starlight in your eyes that you don’t see…

If I am good it is only because you have burnt off my darkness.

I realize it is not innocence I see reflected in your eyes, but so much deeper. Faith, yes, and hope, but also acceptance. Determination. And I know that if anyone had even the smallest chance of righting this world’s wrongs it is you. And I would gladly follow off the cliff’s edge and to the inferno for a chance to see that world you’ll create.

My arms tighten minutely around your form, and I bury my face in your sable hair, and I grasp that at some point I must have memorized the scent, for it is terribly familiar. I can feel your warmth, even through the clothing we wear, and the low cadence of your heartbeat, and it is _soothing_ , the knowledge that you are still here, alive, despite all the world who try to reverse that. My old self would laugh that I cannot rest at ease without the knowledge that your heart still beats, cannot rest unless I can assure myself that you still breathe.

It seems that at some point my entire existence became for you, to protect the incandescence in your soul, from those who would seek to corrupt it. You inadvertently possess me.

 And I cannot bring myself to care.


End file.
